


Funeral Flowers

by penpenhooray



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco doesn't want to admit he likes it, Flowers, Funerals, Harry hitting on Draco at a funeral, M/M, Malfoy Family Feels, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penpenhooray/pseuds/penpenhooray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco had to bury his mother, he's burying the last of his family. But to be honest, he wasn't expecting a certain guest to arrive with flowers for his mother's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funeral Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from anon on tumblr. Hope you enjoy!

 The ceremony had been far more modest than Draco had wanted for his mother. A small gathering of what few family friends still remained meeting once for the viewing, and once for the memorial.

If Draco had been able to have his way, he would have given his mother the grandest send off he was capable of. Perhaps a banquet in her honor, she had always loved dinner parties.

But there weren’t many people who wanted to go to   the funeral of a Deatheater’s wife.

Regardless, Draco had done his damnedest to do right by his mother. He owed her that much: a casket made of the same type of wood that her wand was made of (traditional, of course); an elegant carving of the Malfoy family crest on the lid, complete with mother-of-pearl inlay; a burial place in the Malfoy mausoleum, side by side with his father for the rest of eternity.

They were small, pitiful actions to repay ones own mother, but they were the only things Draco had left to give.

The ceremony had been lovely, and those who attended had given plenty of regards to Draco. If Draco never heard the phrase “I’m so sorry for you loss” again in his life, it would be too soon. He knew they meant well, but he could only take so much. But by now, most of the mourners had gone home, leaving Draco to his thoughts.

And now, all Draco had left of his family were two pewter plaques, side by side, in a tomb of alabaster. As Draco looked at his reflection being shown to him in the polished stone, he could feel the eerie silence smothering him.

A silence that was shattered by footsteps echoing across the cool tile. Draco turned his head towards the intruder, only to see a very unexpected guest.

“Last time you were here, you were being held prisoner by my aunt, Potter. And you came here willingly?” Most might have considered it a great honor to have Harry Potter at a family event, even if it was a funeral. But most didn’t have the same kind of…history with Potter.

To his credit, Potter didn’t seem too fazed by Draco’s scathing remarks (then again, he hardly did these days), “Well I wanted to pay my respects.” He shrugged. “Seemed like the least I could do.”

“I don’t know how much respect you can pay to someone you think looks like they’re constantly sniffing dung.” Draco rolled his eyes.

Potter at least had the decency to look sheepish, “To be fair, I was fourteen when I said that. I wasn’t exactly the paragon of maturity then.”

“And you are now?”

“Of course not, but I can still respect a woman who saved my life.” Potter shook his head, holding up the flowers he was holding, “I just wanted to lay these at her grave, then I can get out of your hair.”

Draco looked at the small bouquet in Potter’s hands, no recognizing the flowers, “Those aren’t narcissus flowers…”

Potter in turned looked at the flowers in his hand, “Um, no…were they supposed to be?”

“No, sorry about that.” Draco shook his head, “It’s just…well, everyone else brought narcissus, so that’s what I’ve been seeing all day.” He shrugged, “I guess I just got used to receiving them.”

“Why would anyone bring flowers that represent egotism to a funeral?” Draco quirked a curious eyebrow at Potter’s outburst. Seeing the blonde’s expression, Potter rolled his eyes, “What? I know my Greek myths, alright? I know Narcissus and what he means.”

“Color me surprised, Potter.” Draco shook his head, “I imagine people though themselves clever, what with her name and all.”

“Yeah, and my name is Harry, but you don’t see me growing a beard. I had to once for an undercover mission, and trust me, it was not a pretty picture.”

Draco couldn’t help it, he snorted. “Potter, seeing how much trouble you have with your hair, I shudder to think what you might look like with a beard.”

Potter shrugged, and Draco was surprised to find himself smiling. “So what flowers did you bring for mother?”

“Well, if I can remember everything…” Potter took another look at his bouquet, “There’s some fennel flowers, Solomon’s seal, and alstroermeria.” Seeing Draco’s skeptical expression, Potter let out an exasperated sigh, “Neville helped me.”

“How did you get him to agree to that?”

“Drinks…and agreeing to hook him up with Ginny.”

For the second time, Draco found himself laughing at Potter’s expense, “Well don’t keep me in suspense, Potter, tell me what mother’s flowers mean.”

“Always so pushy, Malfoy.” Potter smiled softly, “Well alstroemeria means loyalty,Solomon’s seal is secrecy or discretion, and fennel is strength.”

After a moment, Draco nodded, “That’s…that’s about right…”

Potter nodded, laying the bouquet in front of his mother’s grave, “I might not of known your mother very well, but if there’s one thing I learned: she would have done anything for you.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Really Potter? Are we having a moment?”

Sarcasm aside, Draco could feel Potter’s words hitting their mark. He was more than aware that his family wasn’t the most affectionate, or warm, or overtly loving. But that hadn’t meant that they didn’t love each other. People didn’t see that part of them.

But apparently Potter had.

Of fucking course he had.

“Now if you want a real moment, you can join my at the Leaky Cauldron. I’m on my way there for dinner and you could join me.” There was a blase tone to Potter’s voice, but it was still serious.

Draco blinked, “Potter, are you trying to hook up with me at my _mother_ _’s funeral?”_ he scoffed, “And seriously, you’re eating dinner at the Leaky Cauldron? I knew you were plebeian Potter, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Well where would you suggest? The Three Broomsticks?”

“The Three…for Merlin’s sake Potter, forget it. I’ll take you to dinner myself.” Draco shook his head, making his way out of the mausoleum, “Honestly, you’re nearly as rich as I am, and you can’t afford to eat at a decent meal…or a tailor.”

“Whatever you say Draco.” Potter chuckled behind him, trailing behind him, “Whatever you say.


End file.
